Poor Thing
by The Beckster
Summary: Re-uploaded. See Author's Note in Ch.1 What really happened to Lucy after the infamous party at Judge Turpin's house? What could have driven her to drink poison and abandon her baby? The Judge was never contrite... Poor thing. T for language, swearing, and unpleasant circumstances. No Pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is re-uploaded from my old version of _Poor Thing. _Apparently they didn't like my summary and deleted my story. A warning notice would have been nice so I could have changed it without having to re upload every chapter. Oh well...

Old fans, welcome back. Sorry this got deleted on you guys. New readers, welcome. I hope you like this.

I really appreciate all you readers. I'm open to constructive criticism if you find something that could be better or needs to be fixed, so feel free to let me know. And like everyone else I enjoy having my ego stroked. Haha! In short, Read Review, and Enjoy!

I'll try and get the other 2 chapters I have completed up in a reasonable manner. Prod me gently if I get sidetracked, okay?

-The Beckster

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Poor Thing

Rated: T for language (If you feel the rating needs to be changed, please let me know. I don't think it's worse than PG-13, but I am much less squeemish that some others)

Summary: "The judge, he tells her, is all contrite. He blames himself for her dreadful plight." Bull shit. Poor Thing.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Chapter 1

She woke up slowly and reluctantly from a deep sleep. The last dregs of sleep tugged at her brain as she listened to a warm fire crackle in the stove, making the room toasty and warm. She sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around her and buried her head under the silk sheets.

_Silk!_

Her eyes shot open and the sat bolt upright in bed and looked around the room. She was not in her small, but cozy, loft above the pie shop. She quickly glanced around the richly decorated room, and she instantly hated it with every bone in her body. She hated the fancy wall paper with real gold in it. She hated the enormous fireplace opposite of her blazing hellishly. She hated the marble mantle above the fireplace and the woven hearth rug sitting before it. She hated all the expensive, rich furniture decorating her room right down to her magnificent four-poster bed with a down comforter and imported silk sheets. She hated it all.

Her eyes fell on the white and gold double doors and without thinking she leapt out of bed and dashed across the room. She tried vainly to open the door but it was locked. Quickly she spun around and turned to the French doors leading to a balcony. She ran into the freezing rain and looked over the edge. She was too far up to survive a fall and there was no way of climbing down safely.

Shivering she walked back inside and stood there looking around the hateful room dejectedly. She dully noted how the water was dripping from her fine white night gown onto the polished wood floor of the room. She sank to the floor defeated and pulled her knees into her chest and cried like a child as the painful memories of the night before came back to her.

Feeding Johanna. The beadle coming. The hope. The defeat. The party. The drinking. The judge. The laughter. The merry music. The laughter. The judge. The beadle. The laughter!

She could still hear the maniacal laughter ringing in her ears as the heavy hands of the judge pawed at her vulnerable body and exposed flesh. She could still feel the beadle holding her down for the judge. She remembered the humiliation as the judge and the beadle forced themselves upon her. She could still smell the alcohol on their breath; they were basically sweating the vile drink. She could hear the cheering of the other men and the mocking laughter of all the women present as they watched her pinned down like an animal. They had acted like it was a joke. How silly she was to come here, the women commented through their peals of laughter.

"They should all burn in hell!" she cried out bitterly as she wept on the floor. The memories spun around her head at a dizzying rate and she soon felt sick. The only thing she could think of to keep herself from screaming was her dead husband and beautiful daughter. "Benjamin. Johanna." She repeated in her mind.

Somewhere in the distance she heard a key turn in a lock and a door open. She heard fancy shoes click on the wood floor as they approached her.

"Well, my dear Lucy. How are you this morning." A deep, masculine, poisonous voice spoke softly.

Lucy did not answer; she just pressed her head into her arms harder and continued to weep.

The man sighed "Now come on, dear. Moping won't solve anything."

Lucy felt him reach out and gently brush her arm. Without thinking she hit the offending hand away forcefully and glared up at Judge Turpin. Hate burned in her eyes and she shook in anger.

"Don't touch me!" she spat. She scrambled away from the judge towards the fireplace. To her dismay the persistent judge followed her, quickly closing the gap between them. He reached down and lifted her up forcefully so she was standing. He pulled her chin so she was facing him.

"Now my dear, acting like a petulant child won't do you any good either." The vile and corrupt judge said in mock tenderness.

"Burn in hell, you bastard!" she hissed before she spat in his face.

Quickly he pressed his lips against her forcefully, catching Lucy off guard. She recovered quickly and tried to pull away but she couldn't math his strength and break his grip. With a mighty push she detached herself from the judge and went sprawling to the floor.

The judge looked at her, lust smoldering in his eyes. Hate burned in Lucy's eyes. The judge started advancing and Lucy quickly grabbed the first solid thing she found. Without thinking she closed her eyes and swung at the judge with all her might. She opened her eyes as she heard the judge cry out in pain and drop to the floor. She looked to the weapon in her hand, a hot iron poker that had been sitting in the outer coals of the blazing fire getting red hot, and went to swing it at the judge again.

Burning hate for the judge flowed through her veins. She hated him for taking her Benjamin away. She hated him for raping her. She hated him for taking her away from her daughter. Through the haze of her hate two things became clear to her, the judge deserved to die, and she _had_ to get back to Johanna. She would beat the judge to death with this poker if she could.

In her blind hate, Lucy did not see the beadle rush into the room upon the judge's cry. Nor did she notice him come up behind her and grab the hot poker from her hands. Lucy screamed in rage as the beadle threw the poker to the floor and grabbed her arms and held them behind her back with one massive hand. With the other he gave a sharp blow to her head.

Beadle threw the dazed woman to the floor and hurried over to the judge.

"Are you alright my lord?" he said kneeling down to the judge's level.

Lucy had a fleeting moment of satisfaction when she saw he had an angry red burn across his cheek and his nose was bleeding all over his expensive white shirt.

Without a word he stood up and walked over to the dazed Lucy. "Stand her up." He said coldly.

The beadle pulled Lucy up by her shoulders. She tried to stare at Turpin defiantly through her slight daze. Without warning the judge lashed out and smacked Lucy across the face. The woman cried out as she saw stars and was overcome with a new wave of dizziness.

The judge again pulled her face towards his and whispered "If you ever strike me again, _whore_, it will be the last thing you ever do!"

He smacked her again and the beadle threw the limp woman onto the bed. Both of the men left the room and locked the door.

Lucy lay on the large bed and cried with hatred of the two men who had ruined her life.

"I pray they don't get Johanna and Mrs. Lovett thinks of some way to keep my poor baby safe from them."


	2. Chapter 2

Here it is, Chapter 2. Nothing much to say here.

As always, Read, Review, and Enjoy!

-The Beckster

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Poor Thing

Chapter 2

Lucy was not sure how long she lay on the large feather bed. Her thoughts were fuzzy from the blows to her head. She may have dozed off once or twice; she did not particularly care.

She did not hear the gentle knock on the door or the soft voice as the maid let herself in. She pulled away from the gently touch on her shoulder, content to wallow in her own sorrow until she died.

"Miss Lucy, please. You have to change clothes and eat something."

Lucy ignored the kind words.

"If you do not, the judge will surely be angry when he returns from court. He may punish you more," the maid insisted.

That got Lucy's attention. She rolled over and looked at the maid through her puffy red eyes.

Lucy was a mess; her hair was damp and hung loosely around her face, her face was streaked with tears and there was a little blood drying on her chin from her cut lip.

The maid felt the pity well up in her heart before she pulled Lucy into a hug. The young woman started sobbing anew on the maid's shoulder and the maid let her softly rubbing her back.

"There there, dear. Let it all out and you'll feel better." The maid said soothingly. She knew what a shock it was to lose everything so quickly. She had lost her husband when she was young to scurvy, she was told, after he had spent a year on a scientific expedition in South America. All she knew was that he left and never returned. She lost her only child soon after to colic.

"Now how about, I get you a nice hot bath and some hot food. We'll see if you feel a little better then."

Lucy nodded mutely. She studied the maid as she readied her bath. The maid was older, Lucy guessed about forty or fifty years. Her face was beginning to wrinkle, but her green eyes were warm and kind. She carried herself with the dignity of a noble woman as she bustled around doing maid's work. She saw the concern, pity, and understanding in the woman's face when she would turn and glance to the mute woman sitting on the fine bed.

Lucy's bath was hot and the maid led her from the bed into the bathroom. Within a minute her damp gown was hanging over a chair and she was settled into the steaming bath.

Lucy knew she should say something to the maid for being the only kind person she had met in the past few days, but she wasn't sure how to express her gratitude. "Thank you." she muttered.

"It's nothing Miss. You aren't the first young woman that awful man has dragged in here." The maid said scrubbing Lucy's back.

"Please, don't call me 'Miss'. I'm no more of a 'miss' than any prostitute on the street."

"I'm not so sure about that, but what would you rather I called you?"

"Just Lucy."

"I'm Mary." The maid replied and she started to wash Lucy's hair with fine oils and perfumes. She marveled at the woman's long, fine, golden hair.

The two women sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I was very sorry to learn your story, Lucy. That awful creature who thinks he owns the world sending your husband away, and last night."

Tears leaked from Lucy's eyes again. "I'm just worried about my poor Johanna. I'm sure Nelly Lovett can take care of her for a while. But I'm afraid the judge will try and take her away as well."

Mary closed her eyes as she felt the pain of losing her son ripple through her, she did not want Lucy to feel that same pain for the rest of her life "When I go to the market tomorrow I'll try and make my way to Mrs. Lovett's and see how Johanna is."

Lucy lifted her head and her eyes shone with gratitude "Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course, dear."Mary said as she combed out Lucy's golden hair.

Mary convinced Lucy to eat a little food and put on a new, clean gown. She left the younger woman alone with promises of news on Johanna in the morning. She locked the door behind her, under Judge Turpin's orders, and hurried off to the kitchen.

The judge did not visit Lucy again that night, nor the following morning to the relief of the blond woman.

"I will see you later, Lucy. Hopefully with news on dear Johanna." Mary said as she left the room. Lucy had seemed in a slightly better mood that morning after a night of undisturbed sleep and hope of hearing about her daughter. She turned to go back to the kitchen and ran into Judge Turpin skulking in the hall a little ways off from Lucy's door.

"Your Lordship." Mary said curtsying low.

"How is she?" the vile judge demanded.

"She's pining something awful for her babe sir." Mary held up the partially eaten tray of food "She hardly eats out of worry for little Johanna."

"I see." The judge said simply.

"My lord, forgive me if I am speaking out of place, but Johanna needs to be with Lucy. It's not healthy for a babe of her age to be away from her mother for very long, even in the care of another woman. If I could jus-"

"No."

"My lord?" Mary asked meekly

"Lucy may not have her daughter. Johanna will survive well enough."

Mary knew the judge would say no, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed. "Yes Judge Turpin" she curtsied again "Excuse me. I must get to market soon." The judge stepped aside and she went to move past him but he caught her by the arm sharply and pulled her back. Mary almost dropped the tray she was carrying. She cringed as the judge's hot, vile breath washed over her face as he hissed in her ear.

"I know you are going to ask about Johanna and bring back news to Lucy. _I forbid it_! You are to tell her that you were not able to get to Mrs. Lovett's and you do not have any news on the baby. If you utter one word to her otherwise I'll have your neck. Understand?"

Mary took a shaking breath "Yes Judge Turpin."

"Good."

The judge released her arm and Mary hurried away as fast as she could.

Mary pushed her way through the crowded market. She held her basket close in fear of losing anything that was packed in it to a pickpocket or crafty urchin. She broke free of the suffocating crowd and cast a glance over her shoulder. With haste she set off for Fleet Street to find Mrs. Lovett and Johanna.

She reached the dingy pie shop and cast another glance over her shoulder before slipping through the door. The dimly lit shop was almost empty save for a few men quietly munching on pies in the back corner and a frazzled looking woman working away kneading dough on the counter.

Mary stepped toward the counter and stopped in front of the woman. The woman, lost in her own thoughts, continued to knead the dough. Mary cleared her throat trying to catch the woman's attention, but the woman continued to knead. Mary sighed annoyed this woman was ignoring her and she put her hand on the counter.

"Excuse me." she said quietly.

The woman's head snapped up surprised. "Oh! Beg your pardon, dear. I got a little lost in my own thoughts for a moment there. Didn't see you come in. How can I help you? Would you like a nice, juicy meat pie and some ale?" the woman smiled hopefully.

"No thank you. I'm not here to buy anything." Mary said taking note on how thin the woman was and the poor quality meat and gravy waiting to be put into pies. _I wouldn't want to eat them either if I knew what went into that._ she thought.

"Oh…" the woman's face fell.

"Are you Mrs. Lovett?" Mary asked trying to ignore the pity welling up in her stomach.

"Yes I am. Who's askin'?" Mrs. Lovett replied and laughed at something she thought was funny. She wiped her hands on her dirty apron and held one out "Nelly Lovett, dear."

"Mary." The maid said taking her hand "Listen, I'm looking for someone and I was wondering if you could help me."

"Well I don't know how much help I can be. I don't get many people through here nowadays."

Mary glanced over her shoulder to the men in the back corner and to the street outside "I'm looking for Johanna Barker." She said in a lowered voice. "Her mother is pining something awful for her and I promised I'd bring her some news."

Mrs. Lovett's face filled with sorrow "I'm sorry. I wish I could help you find her, but she isn't here anymore. _He_ took her away, last night. I tried to convince them that Johanna was my baby girl, but they saw through the lie like looking through a brand-new window. The poor babe didn't even have a chance."

"I understand." Mary said turning away "Thank you for your help."

"Wait." Mrs. Lovett called out "If you see Lucy, tell her I'm so very sorry. That babe was almost like a niece to me and I loved her dearly."

Mary smiled weakly and nodded. She turned and strode out of the dingy pie shop into the filthy streets of London.

Mrs. Lovett watched Mary go out and melt away into the crowd and turned back to her kneading. To her surprise she found a couple shillings, a roll, and a small package of cheese left on the counter among the dough and pie filling. She usually was not one to take charity, her pride getting the best of her, but the hollow feeling in her stomach forced her to swallow her pride. She quietly slipped the money into her pocket and placed the food under the counter. Her heart went out to the kind woman she would never be able to thank.

Mary walked into the kitchen and handed her refilled basket to one of the cook's assistants before preparing Lucy's dinner tray. She had the tray completed when one of the other maids tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and to her surprise saw Judge Turpin standing in the door between the kitchen and the house. He was staring directly at Mary.

Mary picked up Lucy's dinner tray and started to walk towards the judge. "Your Honor." She said with a small curtsy.

"Give that tray to someone else. I have a different job for you."

Mary turned and summoned another maid and handed her the tray. As soon as her hands were free the judge left. Mary followed him through the house until they came to a usually empty spare bedroom. To her surprise it was closed. She heard faint cries coming from the room and she had a sick feeling she knew what she would find in there.

Judge Turpin opened the door and Mary walked past him. The room was sparsely decorated with a crib in the center, a rocking chair off to the side, a table, and on the other side of the room a poor excuse for living quarters. There was a tiny, old bed, a small chest for clothing, and a chipped wash basin. Mary's attention was drawn to the crib dominating the center of the room where the cries were coming from a squirming bundle of blankets.

"You are to take care of the baby. From now on you are her nurse. Lucy Barker is no longer a concern for you. You are to spend all your days with the baby taking care of her and raising her."

Mary could only stare at the crib in shocked silence. She had suspected the judge might have done this, but to trust her with the baby was a bit surprising. And such a pretty baby she was, wide blue eyes and little curls of fair, blond hair.

"I trust you know how to take care of a child." The judge said in response to Mary's silence.

"Yes, sir" Mary said tearing her gaze away from the baby to look at the judge.

"Good" The judge backed out of the room and began to close the door "I shall be checking on you regularly to see the baby is growing nicely."

"Yes, Judge Turpin" Mary said with a bow of her head.

The judge barely closed the door before Mary spoke out "Sir?"

To her relief the door opened. The judge stepped back into the room and glared at the maid turned nurse. "Yes?" he said slightly annoyed.

"If I may ask, what is the baby's name?" She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from his mouth.

Turpin smiled a horrid, malicious smile. "Johanna" he sneered and closed the door with a snap. Mary heard a lock turn and the judge's fading footsteps.


End file.
